


i hear a storm is comin' in

by restless5oul



Series: even when we're breaking (i'll be loving you) [4]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Heartbreak, I'm Sorry, It's been a while, M/M, Sadness, breaking up, sort of, we still don't like jos verstappen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: in that moment carlos didn’t feel the conflicted mess of guilt and shame that he had been, all he felt was pride. because under it all, he knew how huge this was, and he knew what it took to do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey! wow it's been a while since i've updated this series. but f1 season is here again and i had a little flash of inspiration which i took and ran with. uni has been manic and i basically don't have time to do anything, but man i missed writing these two. this is rather long, it hasn't really been read over or edited so apologies for any errors. i plan to write one more story in this series after this, and then it'll be finished but i can't make anything promises as to when that'll be up. but in the meantime i hope you enjoy!
> 
> *note* this story, unlike the previous ones, is a direct continuation of the last, so at least read work 3 in this series or this one won't make sense :)

Carlos’ feet pounded on the boardwalk, the sea on his left, the beautiful Monegasque street on his right. It wasn’t yet eight in the morning, and despite it being early January, the sun warmed his bare arms and legs as he ran, making his usual morning run more pleasant than usual. Well, that and the knowledge that when his half hour was up he’d be returning to his boyfriend who was waiting in his apartment certainly put a smile on his face as he wiped the sweat of his forehead.

 

It was almost seven months since they’d first kiss on that rooftop in Baku, and it would be one hell of an over exaggeration to say that things had been easy going. But things had gotten a little simpler since Silverstone and now the winter break had arrived, they had a few days to spend together, just the two of them, before training and testing started in full force. Carlos hadn’t gotten to see Max much during the season, and they’d both spent Christmas with their families, so he felt like this too short week spent in Max’s apartment was their first real time alone together in months. Not that anyone really knew where he was, or who he was with.

 

With a jolt that made him feel momentarily nauseous, a feeling that had nothing to do with the cramp starting to form in his calves, Carlos realised that Max’s father was the one of the only people who truly knew what was going on between the two of them. He strongly suspected both Dany and Daniel could hazard a good guess, but neither would say anything without being prompted. If they had even the vaguest idea of what was going on, then they understood why it was best left unaddressed.

 

And Jos Verstappen was now so far out of the picture that Carlos found he could sometimes pretend he didn’t know about the two of them, and that he’d never done any of those awful things to Max. Even entertaining the idea sent a wave of anger coursing through his veins. With the power of Red Bull’s lawyers, the restraining order had been relatively easy to secure, as well as the necessary arrangements to stop the press from finding out what was really going on. It was easy enough to get Christian to release a statement explaining that Max would no longer be managed by his father, few questioned it, it seemed logical that he would be too old for monitoring by his parents. Even Christian had asked relatively few questions, perhaps because he didn’t need to when Max had showed up with a bruise on his face. He hadn’t even questioned Carlos’ presence, though the look in his eyes had told them he knew enough. Really, no one had any clue that things had turned sour between the father and son. Or what was going on between Max and Carlos.

 

There was one exception in the shape of Max’s mother. Carlos hadn’t accompanied Max back to Belgium after Silverstone, but he’d called him every night until they saw each other again. And he’d been given such a finely detailed run down of his conversations with his mother it almost felt like he had been there. From the moment he’d arrived his mother hadn’t bought the excuse that he only wanted to visit, not when she could tell something was wrong with her son. It only took a few days for the truth to come out, what his father had done, the restraining order he was filing for, and why it had all happened. The fact that someone knew terrified Carlos a little, not that he didn’t think they could trust Max’s mother. It just meant it was out of there hands now, out of their control.

 

He tried not to think too often about what it would mean if people found out about the two of them. There was no precedent for a situation like this. There were barely any openly gay sports stars, and never one in Formula 1, and he didn’t think he could think of a couple who competed in the same sport. Wouldn’t it place a permanent question mark above all of their actions and intentions? If people were to find out. Even though it was the 21st century now, and people tended to care less, Carlos couldn’t imagine that there would be no negative backlash at all. And being stuck in the Toro Rosso for another season, surely coming out would make sponsors wary, and his chances of advancing up the grid to a better team would shrink.

 

He could feel a pounding in his heart growing that had nothing to do with the running, and his head felt stuffed with unwelcome thoughts that he rarely entertained. Shrugging it off as best he could, he tried to push all the hypotheticals from his mind for the rest of his run. He didn’t need to think about those things, not for the moment at least.

 

He stopped in at the café on the corner of Max’s street, ordering two coffees and taking out two croissants, because damn it the season hadn’t started yet and he really wanted a pastry. And if Max wanted to stick to his strict regime then that just meant more for him. On his way out of the café, having paid for the drinks and food, Carlos picked up one of those free newspapers from the stand by the door, figuring that if Max wasn’t awake yet then he’d read it to pass the time until he did.

 

But when he entered the apartment he could hear the sound of his pattering about inside. He pulled off his trainers, momentarily pausing to wipe at his sweat covered forehead, before he entered the open plan kitchen and living room where he could see Max standing behind the counter, pouring himself a glass of water.

 

“You’re up!” Carlos greeted, pulling him into kiss, which was cut short by Max pulling away, a grimace on his face.

 

“God you smell terrible,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

 

“Good morning to you too,” Carlos replied, laughing, and planting a kiss on his cheek, “I guess you won’t want the breakfast I brought then.”

 

He placed the bag and newspaper on the counter, pulling out the paper bag which held the still warm croissants, and the two coffees in their container that ensured they stayed upright.

 

“On second thoughts…” Max said, reaching for the bag, which Carlos pulled just out of his reach, pulling one of the pastries out and waving it in front of his face temptingly, waggling his eyebrows for good measure.

 

“Hungry?” he asked, laughing again as Max grabbed his hand so he could manoeuvre the croissant into his mouth, so Carlos was forced to just hand him the food. Curling one arm around his boyfriend’s waist, he pulled him closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck he sighed in utter contentment. One of Max’s arms lazily wound its way around his back as he listened to him finish off the rest of the croissant, a satisfied moan escaping his lips, making Carlos chuckle into his neck. They stood like that for a while, the distant sound of the TV from the apartment next door the only noise in the room.

 

“Can you pass me a coffee?” Carlos eventually asked, after a minute or so had passed. There was a beat and Max didn’t say anything or make a move to pick up the cup. His arm was still around Carlos’ back but his body had gone stiff.

 

“Max?” he asked, lifting his head to look at his boyfriend’s face where he found an expression somewhere between horror and confusion, his eyes transfixed on the counter beside them. Following his gaze, Carlos saw that he was staring at the newspaper, which had landed upside down so the sports headlines were facing upwards.

 

Carlos didn’t speak much French, and he didn’t think Max did either, but it wasn’t hard to tell what had shaken him up so much. Emblazoned on the paper was a huge picture of Max’s Red Bull, accompanied by two smaller pictures. One of his dad, and one of Christian. From the similarities with his native language, Carlos could tell that they were alluding to some kind of argument from the headline and the words _injunction restrictive_ jumped out at him from the article.

 

“You don’t think...” he started, looking back at his boyfriend, who was staring intently at the page, probably trying to translate the words, his expression so serious Carlos felt like he could see his brain ticking.

 

“How could they find out?” Max finally said, the words leaving his mouth slow and unsure. There was no way anyone could know the full reality of the situation, but the terrifying thought did enter Carlos’ mind for a moment. And he could see that momentary fear reflected in Max’s eyes. Neither of them had a chance to say anything else before the silence was broken by the sound of Max’s phone vibrating against the kitchen worktop. The name on the screen told them it was Max’s boss.

 

“Christian?” he said as he picked up the phone, his voice sounding slightly more tired than it had done fine minutes ago.

 

Carlos couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side of the line, but he could guess from the look on Max’s face that it was about the article that was staring up at them from the countertop.

 

“Yeah I saw,” he said with a grimace towards Carlos, who reached out to take his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“No I don’t either…Yeah…No I’m at home…”

 

Carlos watched as Max nodded his way through the short phone call, before hanging up.

 

“What did he say?” Carlos asked, more than a little anxiously.

 

“Not much, he wants me to fly to Milton Keynes and we’ll talk about sorting it out. I don’t even know how much people know. Christian didn’t say,” Max’s expression looked positively nauseous, but his eyes were filled with anxiety rather than fear. Which Carlos took to be a positive sign.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing Max’s gaze away from his phone, brushing loose strands of hair out of his face, “It’ll be okay, it could just be rumours, it’ll die down.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Max nodded shaking Carlos’ hand free and picking up his phone again, “I need to organise a flight or something…”

 

He trailed off, lost in thought. It struck Carlos as unusual, the Dutchman was never particularly introspective, preferring to do his thinking out loud rather than in his head. And he had never been shy about telling Carlos exactly what was going on in his head, even before they started dating, back when they’d been teammates.

 

“You can stay here for the rest of the week if you want to. Just because the world doesn’t seem to want to give me a break doesn’t mean you can’t have one,” Max said before he placed his phone to his ear. It was a generous offer.

 

“Thanks,” Carlos pressed another kiss to his cheek, unsure whether he wanted to stay in Monaco if his boyfriend wasn’t going to be there.

 

***

Only the following evening the young Spaniard was sat at the dining table in Max’s apartment, his laptop was open in front of him, waiting for the familiar sounds of an incoming Skype call to appear. Right on cue, he got the notification that Max was trying to contact him, and didn’t hesitate to click “answer”. Max’s face filled the screen, he was smiling slightly and from the scene behind him Carlos could tell that he was still at the Red Bull headquarters, probably tucked away in some office.

 

“How are you doing? Carlos asked immediately, before Max could say anything.

 

‘I’m okay, better anyway,” Max answered, his smile growing a little, “Tired. It’s been a long day.”

 

“How come you’re still at the office? It’s almost nine there.”

 

“We just had a lot to talk about, we’ve almost finished up now though. The hotel I managed to get is only about fifteen minutes away,” he explained, waving away Carlos’ ill-hidden concern. He opened his mouth to say something else but Carlos jumped in before he could speak, so eager was he to find out what had been said. It was an eagerness born partly from the fear that people may have been only a few words away from learning the truth, but of course also because he could remember how it had felt to hold Max as he’d cried that night after Silverstone.

 

“And what did Christian say? Does he know how people found out about the restraining order? What are you going to say?” the barrage of questions just made Max laugh. It was unlike Carlos to be the more emotionally charged of the two of them, that role was usually reserved for his boyfriend. It was a testament to the amount of anxiety that had built up within him over only the past thirty-six hours or so.

 

“One question at a time okay?” Max laughed again, but this time the sound was accompanied by a twisting of his hands together, a small but tell-tale sign that he was nervous. It was a minute sign but Carlos didn’t miss it.

 

“You’ve probably read all about it by now, but someone got a hold of a copy of the court order against my dad, so all they’re reporting is that I was granted a restraining order against him. They don’t know why,” he explained, wringing his hands together once more as he finished.

 

“And that’s all?” Carlos asked, eyeing Max a little more carefully than he had been doing before.

 

“Yeah that’s all. Red Bull spoke to my dad and he doesn’t want to say anything about it. Probably to protect his own back,” Max shrugged, the pursing of his lips told Carlos had uncomfortable it made him to talk about his dad. Still the question hadn’t been answered about what was going to be done.

 

“So are Red Bull going to say anything? Or are they just going to leave it?”

 

“Well,” and before he said anything else, Max inhaled slowly and deliberately, and in that second, in some deep part of Carlos’ mind he guessed what was going to come next. The rest of him had no clue what was about to be said, “We’ve, well I have, I’ve decided to tell people about what my dad did, and why. To tell people I’m gay.”

 

Only silence followed. One that was deafening and horrible for both of them. As Carlos tried to digest what he had just been told and Max waited for his response. It was so unexpected his brain seemed to stop working, and he couldn’t even fathom the implications for this. For Max, for his career, for the two of them. His mind still hadn’t caught up by the time he spoke, making his words clumsy.

 

“W-what? Why?” was all he could manage, and even from the pixelated picture he was receiving he could see Max flinch, and instantly he wished he’d said something else.

 

“I just,” he started, and from the way he spoke Carlos could tell this was a speech he thought about for some time, and probably recited a few times that day, “Once I was okay with it myself, all I wanted to do was tell people, because I felt like for the first time ever I knew who I was, and I didn’t want to have to hide that. I don’t want to feel like I’m lying Carlos. Because sometimes I do.”

 

Listening to Max speak, he sounded a million miles away from the scared boy on the rooftop in Baku who didn’t want to face who he was. How had his mind been changed so much in what felt like such a short amount of time? Carlos wished he understood, but there was too much doubt holding him back from feeling the same way.

 

“But what about Christian, a-and the sponsors and everything? Going public with that, I mean, how will people react?” Carlos asked, still struggling to get his head around this revelation. He could tell from the expression on Max’s face that he wasn’t reacting the way he’d imagined. The nerves had been replaced by a crestfallen expression, and an energy that was akin to betrayal.

 

“I think Christian already knew, about us I mean,” Carlos feels his cheeks redden at those words, not having realised they’d been obvious. They’d been so careful, “No one’s ever done it before, I don’t know what people will say, I might lose some sponsors. And I don’t really care that much. It might help some people Carlos, not just me coming out, but what happened with my dad. If they’ve gone through the same thing, you know?”

 

Carlos sat back in the chair, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. He knew he was handling this all wrong, but he didn’t know what Max wanted him to say. It was so like Max to tackle it this way, with no regard for other people’s opinions. He adopted that approach for almost every other area of his life, why not for his sexuality too? But that just wasn’t in Carlos’ nature.

 

“I thought you’d be happy,” Max said quietly, forcing Carlos’ eyes open. It wasn’t that he was displeased Max had chosen to take this mammoth step, and looking back, a large part of him was so proud he had.

 

“I just don’t know what this means for us Max, what happens now?”

 

There’s a look on Max’s face and Carlos knows exactly what he wants to say, and he can’t, he just can’t.

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice a lot stronger than he felt, “I can’t do that. Not now. I’m not ready.”

 

The words came out harsher than he meant them. He only hoped they weren’t too much of a shock for Max. Because now they found themselves in an impossible position, with no idea what they were supposed to do.

 

“Right, okay,” Max muttered, the fumbling of his hands returning. If he had been sat in front of Carlos he would have taken them in his own, told him that this wasn’t because he didn’t love him, or that he didn’t want him to do this. It was so much more complicated than that. But the words didn’t come. Another awkward silence ensued, neither of them wanting to say anything in case they pushed the two of them towards an unhappy ending. An ending they seemed to be hurtling towards no matter what they said.

 

“When were you going to do it?” Carlos finally asked.

 

“Later this week, Christian wants to let Helmut and Dietrich know, and probably Adrian and Daniel too. I wanted to tell my sister first as well,” Max said, but now he wasn’t looking up, instead staring down at his hands which were folded on the table in front of him.

 

“Max,” Carlos said softly, trying to get his attention, to get him to look at him. But he wouldn’t.

 

“Where do we go from here? Because-,” Max’s voice broke and he couldn’t finish his sentence. Carlos hated the distance between in that moment, because he knew what was coming, and he didn’t want to do it like this.

 

“I know, it won’t work,” he admitted, and as small as his voice sounded, he felt a whole lot smaller, “I can’t, it would just be too-…”

 

And now Carlos was the one that couldn’t find the words. But Max knew exactly what he meant.

 

“I didn’t mean, I didn’t think this would happen,” Max said, his words talking on that hurried, emotional quality that happened only when he was desperately sad and desperately trying not to show it, “I just didn’t- “

 

“It’s okay, don’t-…” Carlos found himself having to clear his throat to combat the rising tide of sadness, “I’m sorry.”

 

The last thing he wanted was for Max to change his mind. Seeing the look in his eyes as he spoke about being who he really was, that was enough to know he had to let him do this. Even if it meant letting him go.

 

“I’ll wait,” he said suddenly, finally looking up, and even from the blurred image he was receiving Carlos could see how his eyes shone with sadness, and maybe a little bit of resentment, “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

 

But Carlos didn’t know how long that would be. He could tell this had been playing on Max’s mind for some time now, but it hadn’t been that way for him. Would Max want him by the time he was ready? Once he was out, Carlos wouldn’t be the only person that would show interest in him? If this was a goodbye, then he was free to do as he pleased.

 

Any chance of a reply was dashed by the sound of a knocking on the door of the room Max was in.

 

“One minute!” he called out, his voice wavering slightly as he wiped his eyes, “Sorry I-I have to go.”

 

Carlos didn’t even get the say goodbye before he was met with the familiar beeping that told him the call had been disconnected.

 

***

Staying in Max’s apartment for the rest of the week had been one of the worst ideas Carlos had ever had, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. It was Friday afternoon and he found himself lying on Max’s bed, his laptop was open in front of him with a video playing that told him the Red Bull press conference was about to begin shortly. He was trying to focus on the video that had been playing on loop for the past five minutes, but all he could think about was how much the sheets smelt like Max, and how it just reminded him of the nights they’d spent tangled up in them. Fuck, everything in that god forsaken flat reminded him of Max.

 

The sound of applause and a voice introducing Christian made him jump, and his attention returned to the screen. He watched as the Red Bull team boss walked on stage, gave a short speech before introducing Max. The moment Max stepped on that stage and took his place next to his boss, Carlos felt his heart plummet. He didn’t even know if he could watch this, he felt sick to his stomach with guilt and longing, but he couldn’t look away. He felt as though he owed it to Max to see this. Max flashed a smile to the crowd of journalists and photographers, who probably hadn’t the slightest clue what he was about to announce.

 

“So as you’ve no doubt read, there’s been stories in the press this week…” Christian started his spiel, and Carlos figured he could watch, but he didn’t have to listen.

 

Instead he focused on the way Max kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, fiddling with the cap he wore, how he was clearly trying his hardest to look calm. He only heard the clicking of the cameras and the faints murmurings of the crowd when Max told them what his dad had done. He’d never wondered which had been the harder thing for Max to admit, he’d never asked. But the look of relief on his face that told Carlos which had been burdening him more, as he said;

 

“I’m gay.”

 

In that moment Carlos didn’t feel the conflicted mess of guilt and shame that he had been, all he felt was pride. Because under it all, he knew how huge this was, and he knew what it took to do.

 

If the press’ reaction had been audible before, now the clamouring was thundering. As everyone clambered for their phones, their cameras, their laptops, desperate to let the world know. Hands shot up in the air, everyone eager to know more. Christian surprised Carlos by allowing a few questions. He silently braced himself, not wanting Max to be faced with the worst of the reaction right now.  The first question was from a woman who wanted to know why he had chosen this particular time to come out and Max’s answer was simple;

 

“I just feel ready, it felt like the right time.”

 

There were more questions, most fairly benign, and the longer Max spoke for, the more comfortable he could see him become. He looked lighter, and Carlos felt guilty for not realising the impact that the secret had been having on him. There was a part of him that wished he was there with him, but another that craved the security he felt hidden away in Max’s apartment.

 

“So is there a special someone in your life?” someone called out, which got a few small laughs. The question made Carlos’ heart stop, even though he knew Max wouldn’t say anything about him, there was a second where he wished he would. But then again, could he even speak of an “us” when it came to them anymore.

 

“No there isn’t,” he replied with finality, and there was a wistfulness that didn’t escape anyone’s notice. No one questioned him further, though Carlos could practically feel the curiosity in the room peaking.

 

“Sorry that’s all guys, thank you for coming,” Christian said, ending the press conference and ushering Max from the stage.

 

Carlos shut his laptop, and turned to bury his face in the pillow beneath him. Despite Max’s words about waiting, there was an inescapable feeling in Carlos’ chest that he wouldn’t. He couldn’t fathom why or how he would wait for someone who had jumped ship. Someone who placed his own selfish fear above someone they were supposed to care about more than anything. He lay like that for hours, before he finally worked up the energy to move, so confused and conflicted and what was right and what he wanted. Somehow he knew they were the same thing.

 

With no regard for the time, he collected his belongings and left, leaving his spare key on the kitchen counter. He walked out into the Monegasque night with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience.


End file.
